


And Then There Was Silence

by RuinNine



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Panic, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuinNine/pseuds/RuinNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a groan, he rolls over - or rather, he tries.</p>
<p>But he can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then There Was Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to get it out of my system. :)  
> I'm not a native speaker and this is unbetaed.

— † —

 

 

“Thorn? Thorn!”

 

It takes him a while to come back to his senses. Voices fade in and out, as does the light, flickering as if it's going to die soon. He can't remember what happened. His memories end with him boarding the plane, laughing with Christmas about a joke and slapping him on the back. After that, there is only a blank space. Weird. He can't remember drinking, he never does on mission days. With a groan, he rolls over – or rather, he tries.

 

But he can't.

 

In a split-second, he's wide awake, and a wave of information instantly crashes down on him. He can't feel his right leg, and he can't move anything further than a few inches, including his head that is bent painfully to the side. The flickering lights are spots dancing in front of his eyes, as the only real light is dim, and he can barely see it through the cracks. His mind is immediately ablaze with overwhelming panic, and he fights against the concrete that is holding him down, earning himself scratches all over his body that burn and sting.

 

It's no use.

 

He is barely aware that he's screaming until his voice gives up, until all that comes out are hard little gasps, barely able to fill his lungs with life-saving oxygen. In the following silence, he can suddenly hear the voices again. There are many, but one is coming back more often than the others. He knows it, knows the man belonging to it, his calm eyes, his warm body, his small smile. John. “John!”

 

“Thorn, can you hear me?”

 

“Yeah! Now get me out!”

 

“If you can, please-”

 

“I can! I'm here!”

 

“-give me a sign. Anything and we'll come get you.”

 

“For fuck's sake! John!”

 

He barely registers the tears of frustration running down his face. John repeats the message in his ear many times, often taking turns with the others who all call out to him, ask him to answer, to let them know where he is, if he's hurt, if... He tries replying a few times more, but soon enough, he gives up. They can't hear him. No one can hear him down here. The panic suddenly sets back in, and he's back to pushing against the concrete with all his might, but just like before, it won't budge.

 

He's terrified out of his mind, and he doesn't care one bit about his favourite image of the team's smart-ass as he strains against his cold prison. He calls for Barney, for Luna, for Mars, for each and every one of his teammates. But most of all, he calls for John, calls for his reassuring presence and for his unshakable composure. He begs for mercy, for death, for life. He prays to God. He goes on until he can't continue anymore, until all he can do is cry and whimper. There is a sharp pain in his neck, and his head jerks up against his will, crashing the transmitter on his throat against the concrete. It makes a pitiful screeching noise, and he curses under his breath.

 

“Thorn?!”

 

There it is again, John's voice. But this time, it sounds different, loud and alarmed. It prompts him to reply, even though he is scared it will be in vain, as were all the other attempts before. “John. Please...”

 

“Oh, thank God!” All of a sudden, his ear fills with the excited voices of all the Expendables, and it hurts his head, but then John cuts them off with a sharp order. “Thorn, where are you?”

 

The question makes him all too aware of how helpless he is, how unlikely it is they will find him in time, and he can't suppress a choked sob. “I don't know. I have no fucking idea what happened!” His breathing quickens, and his voice turns more desperate with each word. “I don't know... please... please get me out!”

 

All of a sudden, a surge of self-hatred courses through him, and it is aimed at how whiny and childish he sounds, at the weakness he displays in front of the entire team, at his inability to realize the danger behind the wire dangling from the door frame. The wire! His whole body jerks violently as memories suddenly flood his mind. “There was a wire! In the doorway. I pushed it out of the way, and it set off a chain of explosions. And now I can't move, and I can't see, and...”

 

His voice trails off as the hopelessness of the situation he's in trickles back into his mind and in the blink of an eye, the panic is back full force. “John, please! Barney! Please don't leave me here! I can... I'll do anything. I'll clean everyone's weapons for a month. Whatever you want. Just get me out of this hellhole!”

 

“Thorn!” This time, it's Barney, and his deep and calm voice actually makes him pause. “Thorn. Stop. Relax your body. Take deep breaths.” He makes a pause to give him time to comply. “And now you'll try to remember where you were when you moved the wire.”

 

“I don't know. I can't...”

 

“Take your time.”

 

John. An unbearable surge of longing courses through his system, and he forces himself to relax back against the stone digging into his spine, to take as deep breaths as his strained nerves will allow, to tune in to his heartbeat and will it to slow down. “I was covering the third floor of the... the West Wing I think.” And then there's an image in his mind, a look out of a window, and he can barely get the words out in his relief. “Level with the oak in the courtyard. Northbound.”

 

“Hold on, Thorn.” Barney's voice is equally relieved, and there's a flurry of activity in the background. “We're getting help from the LAFD. We'll get you out in no time, alright?”

 

His whole frame is trembling now, and he suddenly realizes how exhausted and cold he is as the adrenaline finally burns out. His body aches everywhere, he still can't feel his right leg and his throat is sore from screaming. All he wants to do is close his eyes and go to blissful sleep, but he knows he can't. It's the first thing you learn in this profession, and he won't forget about it now. So he trains his eyes on the small crack of light, the only thing he can make out, and takes a deep breath.

 

“John?”

 

“Yes?”

 

The answer is immediate and tight with hope, and it anchors him in the almost-darkness that surrounds him. “Don't stop talking, okay? I need... Don't leave me alone here.”

 

“Sure.” He can almost hear John's barely there smile in his voice. If he concentrates hard enough, he can even picture it in his mind. It must be enough for now. “You just stay with me and the others will get to you soon, okay?”

 

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

“Alright. So...” John clears his throat and falters for a moment, apparently searching for something to talk about. It somehow calms him down to know he isn't the only one thrown off kilter by this situation. “Christmas and Doc managed to catch the target, but it was ridiculous how easy it was. They actually...”

 

In the end, he closes his eyes after all, because he can't keep them open any longer, and because it is so much easier to imagine John when he's not looking at something that resembles the light at the end of the tunnel a bit too closely for his taste. So he just lets John's voice wash over him, mumbling a short reply every now and then, until everything fades into the dark background and all he's left with is the beating of his own heart in his ears, slowing down further and further.

 

And then, there is only silence.

 

 

— † —

 

 

And whatever happens afterwards is up to you. :) Thank you very much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the title from Blind Guardian's brilliant song of the same name. It's the song that infected me with the metal virus. Thanks, guys! :]


End file.
